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OCCASIONED B7 THE 


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DESTRUCTION OF THE STEAM PACKET PULASKI 


ON HER PASSAGE FROM CHARLESTON TO BALTIMORE, 


AND THE LOSS OE ABOUT 


ONB HUNDRED AND rORTY Z.ZVB8, 


ON THE NIGHT OF THE 14th JUNE, 1838, 


DELIVERED IN THE 


INDEPENDENT PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH, JULY 12th, 1833. 





By PRESTON, 

• • 

PASTOR OF SAID CHURCH. 


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Sabannah: 

PRINTED BY THOMAS PURSE & CO. 










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COMIVIUNZCATZONS. 


To Rev. W. Preston, 


Savannah^ July 13, 1838. 


Sir —We have been instructed by the Committee of Arrange¬ 
ments, to return you their thanks for the very impressive and elo¬ 
quent Discourse pronounced by you yesterday, and to solicit frr)m 
you a copy of the same for publication. 

We are. Sir, 

With great respect. 

Your obedient servants, 

ROB’T M. CHARLTON. 

. GEORGE WHITE. 
WILLIAM LAW. 


Savannah^ July 14, 1838. 

To the Hon. R. M. Charlton, 

Rev. Geo. White, 

Hon. William Law, 

Gentlemen —In complying with ihe request, communicated in 
your note of yesterday, for a copy of the Discourse, delivered on 
the 12th instant, I deem it proper to state, that it was jirepared 
under the pressure of unusual labour and debility. But I yield to 
the request, as a testimony of my individual respec and afiection 
to the memories of the deceased; and with the hope and prayer 
that God may add his blessing to its perusal. 

I am, gentlemen. 

Respectfully and affectionately. 

Your obedient servant, 

WILLARD PRESTON. 





ADDRESS. 


What means this movement in our city? this gathering toge¬ 
ther of her inhabitants ? this solemn procession of her citizens ? 
this congregating of her different religious denominations in this 
house of prayer? this united service of all her ministers at God’s 
holy altars? What has consecrated a day, usually devoted to se¬ 
cular pursuits, to religious worship? what mean these badges of 
mourning—this sable drapery which mantles this sanctuary? Sure¬ 
ly these things betoken no common calamity—no ordinary afflic¬ 
tion. Nor are they of difficult solution. The answer is found in 
every heart; it is imprinted on every countenance; it is read in 
the deep gloom, which, like a cloud, has settled over this whole 
community. It is expressed by the deep groans and sighs which 
come from the bleeding, bursting hearts of bereaved relatives and 
friends of every name and degree of endearment and intimacy. 
It is heard in the subdued utterance of those emotions of sympa¬ 
thy and condolence, awakened in every bosom, and enforced by 
many a painfully successive day of eagerness for more intelligence 
—of anxious suspense, from the first moment of the heart-rending 
tidings to the day of awful assurance. Nor are these evidences of 
some awful disaster confined to this city. Like groans are heard, 
like sighs are sent forth from the hearts of many a circle of mourn¬ 
ers, elsewhere. The same dark cloud, as it were, a funeral pall, 
broods over many a city and section of our country. Many a heart 
is this moment bleeding at the disruption of the tenderest ties ; ex¬ 
tending the desolation through all grades and degrees of domestic, 
social, civil and sacred companionship. Nor are the sad memen¬ 
toes of some awful disaster Airnished upon the land only. Would 
it had been so, had that been the dictate and course of infinite wis¬ 
dom. Deep as had been the affliction then, there had been allevi¬ 
ation ; a mournful pleasure, to have stood by the death-bed; to 
have administered the counsels and the consolations of the gospel; 
to have united our prayers before a throne of grace > to have ex¬ 
changed the parting farewell; to have given the last look to the 
enshrouded, encoffined remains and followed them to their narrow 
house. But not even that mournful satisfaction. Death has scat- 



6 


lered his trophies far and wide; they have been borne in all direc¬ 
tions from the fatal spot of arrest, on the bosom of the mighty 
deep. But, theie is consolation here, for mourners of the pious 
dead. Though the close death-embrace be dissolved, and the bodies 
of companions and members of the same family, who descended to 
a watery grave in each other’s arms, may have been wafted and be 
now wafting, in different directions, or wherever they shall find 
their last repose, they are under the constant inspection and watch¬ 
ful care of Him who is the Resurrection and the Life. They will 
not be lost—they tvill not be missing in the great last day : For 
the sea shall give vp the dead which are in it! And does any 
one now enquire the occasion of all this sorrow and grief—these 
tokens of mourning—this cessation from worldly occupations— 
these holy solemnities? Is there a stranger here who has not 
heard, and heard oft-repeated, the tale of woe ? If so, a simple 
statement is the most we can give. To describe the scene of desola¬ 
tion and death, in their frightful forms, we confess we have no words. 
To conceive, even, the consternation and agony which must have 
seized the immediate sufferers, we have no powers; the heart sickens 
and sinks at the thought—the reality far exceeds the utmost efforts 
of the imagination to pourtray. 

On the 13th of June, 1838, the steam packet Pulaski left this port 
for the city of Baltimore. Of more than seventy persons who em¬ 
barked at this place, 52 were inhabitants or residents, chiefly the for¬ 
mer, of this city.(') Among them were some of our most respect¬ 
able, enterprising and esteemed citizens. Some of these were ac¬ 
companied by their entire families—others ky most of their domes¬ 
tic circle; embracing, of course, relatives of every endearing tie ; 
others still, were following after their dearest earthly friends, who 
had shortly preceded them, with the fond hope and joyful expec¬ 
tation of a speedy re-union ; while all w^ere animated with the 
prospect of improvement, of ])rolit, or of pleasure. At Charleston, 
where they remained the first night, they w’ere joined by a still 
greater number, as fellow passengers, embracing many of the most 
respectable inhabitants, and some entire families, of that city and 
vicinity. 

On the .morning of the 14th, with at least one hundred and fifty, 
probably one hundred and sixty souls, exclusive of the officers 
and crew, whose number amounted to thirty-seven; the boat re¬ 
sumed her onward course towards the place of destination. The 
day had dawned mildly and brightly upon them, and “ the weather 
(writes one of the passengers,) remained pleasant through the day, 


with a fresh breeze and some sea.” Full of hope and with more 
than common confidence of a safe and speedy passage, the joyous 
multitiulc thought only of a happy termination of their voyage. 
With these feelings of hope and security, and the cheering pros¬ 
pect of “ only one night at sea,” the chief inducement with many 
for prefering this mode of conveyance, they left amid the saluta¬ 
tions and the adieus of numerous friends. “In consequence of a 
little sea-sickness, (writes the same individual,) in which the great¬ 
er part of the passengers shared, when evening came, most of them 
had retired.”(2) But let us here ])ause, and briefly comment on a 
few of the above most important, but deceptive expressions.— 
“Place of destination”—but alas, how different from that antici¬ 
pated! “The day dawned mildly and brightly”—but oh, to be 
succeeded by what a night! Day—the last to which tliey were 
here to awake 1 “ Full of hope”—ah, ho\v delusive ! IIow soon 

that hope to end in despair! “ More than a common confidence”— 

alas, how' vain ! “ Speedy passage”—it was so ! But it was to a 

watery grave ! A boundless eternity ! “ One night only at sea”— 

but it was their last on earth ! “ Happy termination of their voy¬ 

age”—but it was the voyage of life ! It terminated on the shoies 
of the unseen world! To those who were prepared to make it, 
a happy termination—the termination of all their sufferings and 
sorrows. 

All thus hushed in silence, save what betokened a safe and 
rapid progress, a silence which increased with the dee])ening slum- 
beis of the wearied and sea-sick inmates of their ocean-habitation, 
the hour of mid-nigln approached. But, ere that hour arrived, 
how changed the scene ! Hark! what frightful sound was that, 
which in an instant aroused the numerous slumberers from their 
sweet and quiet repose, and filled the confiding wakeful, with con¬ 
sternation and horror ! Ah, to not a few it was a summons to the 
bar of God ! They woke—to sleep no more, save the sleep of 
death—to open their eyes in eternity ! To others it was the last 
alarm—the alarm for immediate preparation for a quick exchange 
of worlds! But, ah! under what circumstances? Such as forbade 
that calm and sober and prayerful reflection, so essential to a 
peaceful death, and joyful interview with their final Judge! For 
though the Christian was there, the ministers at God’s holy altars,(3) 
and the elders of his Church, and other followers of the Redeemer 
in the regeneration, yet tliey had others for whom to care; others, 
to have abandoned whom, would have ill prepared themselves for 
Heaven—their fears to allay—their agonies to soothe—their pier- 


8 


fcing shrieks to hear, and hearing, heed—And their death grasp to f‘eel. 
Husbands and wives and parents and children of every age, from in’ 
fancy to ripening and ripened maturity: and brothers and sister sand 
friends, entire^ and in instances, numerous house-holds were there. 
Awful consternation and hofrid confusion now commingled all 
their terrors. For, think of the hurried assembling of the scarcely 
half clad members of the same family, who had retired to different 
and to distant berths for repose, thus suddenly awaked, in the 
darkness of mid-night, and all the lights, which to them supplied 
the place of day, extinguished !—the anxious, but fruitless gaze !— 
the eager, but scarcely more successful search of companion for 
companion—of parent for child and child for parent, while the 
mingled shrieks and cries and louder calls from so many voices 
prevented all recognition by the once familiar and well known 
sound. And now all prospect of re-union, save in another world, 
in numerous instances well nigh gone—in some, gone forever, by 
the impassable gulf, which suddenly, and “ with a mighty crash, 
intervened between the two extremes of their lately majestic, but 
now, frail, crumbling, sinking bark, which but a moment before, 
dashed “ like a thing of life” through the billows of the troubled 
ocean. Ah, see in fancy, if fancy can depict the scene, those dis¬ 
membered house-holds. Some indeed, more daring, nay, rather 
more affectionate, assayed to swim that gulf: but at the sacrifice 
of life^*^)*—they plunged, but never rose! But the agonised widow 
who saw the daring of no common love, was the widow only of a 
moment. The fatherless child too lived not to know its loss. And 
anon, one united shriek from a hundred voices rent the air, and 
the stillness of death ensued, save only from the cries which came 
from the comparatively few on broken fragments, scattered in all 
directions, the sport of every wave. They were soon wafted from 
the hearing of each others’ wailings—wailings for the dead and 
the dying, rather than at their own sufferings and perils, intense 
as the one, and imminent as the other. For to some, at least, life 
itself were hardly a coveted boon. They had seen those who 
were dearer than life, suddenly torn from them. All, all of earth 
desirable, gone ! forever gone! To others who survived the aw¬ 
ful catastrophy of that moment, a few succeeding days witnessed 
only to a lingering and most painful death. Destitute of all the 
means of subsistence, of delicate and feeble constitution and health 
impaired, they survived only a few days, and unaided, exhausted 
nature yielded to the stroke of the king of terrors, but to them, the 
embrace of a welcomed messenger. Thus, especially, sank in 


9 


peace nnrl hope and holy triumph, a distingnished brother in the 
min slry, and his pious c<impariion/^^ '^hey were locrh/ and j-lea- 
aant in their lives^ and in their death they were not diiided. Eut 
here let us exchange tor a moment our tones of grief for the notes 
of praise: praise 1 q the sovereign God, for the preservation of 
the rescued, atid restoration to their friends. Let us gratefully rc- 
cogtiise the sovereign goodness of God, which was so distinguish- 
rdly displayed in their hehalf; while the dead, after rir,ha]initig 
their memories with our tears, we cheerfully leave with God. 

Of the fifty-two of this city, who embarked in that d<’Votc (l pack¬ 
et, tiirie only are known to have survived—of the whole ninnherof 
passengers, hut fifty-ninc.(‘’> The names of the lost from this city 
arc known to you all. I'heir memories are deeply engraved on 
all our-hearts. Among them were those whose death our u ho e 
community mourns. The deep sincerity of their grief is attested 
by past assendilies and utuinimous resolves of our citizens. Tl'.c 
proof is renewcil by the multitudes assembled here, to-day, to jpifi 
in these public solemnities, appointed for the purpose of testifying 
our esteem and aflection bir them while living, our g:iefat their 
death; and to pay deser\cd honors to their mimoiics. The use¬ 
fulness of their lives is inscribed on tablets iiiore enduring than 
monumental marble—on the annals of the city—rthe records of tb.e 
Church—and the hearts of us all. y\mong the deceased were thp 
mature in wisdom, nor less so, we trust, in gracC'—the enterprising 
and active citizen—the jiromising young man—those too who en¬ 
livened and enlightened and adorned the domestic and the social 
circle—the belovcil wife—the affectionate mother, and the lovely 
daughter. 

^I'his house of God exhibits the tokens, (alas, how far short they 
come of a full expression,) of the deep-sealed grief of the Church 
and Congregation who statedly worship here. Of the seventeen of 
their own number, one only survives !—survives in lorlorn widou- 
h )()d ! and childless !—made so in amf)ment! 11 is house is li¬ 
terally left loliim desolate. Cut numerous are the mourning rela¬ 
tives >vho go about tfie streets. For them, what can we do? We 
tender to them our sympathies, our liveliest and lenderest sympa¬ 
thies. Oi\y tears have flowed, and will long continue to flow and 
mingle with their own. But alas, wliatare all these ? I'hey need 
infinitely more to sustain and console them. And let us lift our 
hearts in l.umble thankfulness to God ; thf’i’c is more at hand.— 
There is one who is touched with the feeling of our infirmity .— 


B 


10 


We will daily carry them to Him, in the arms of prayer. We 
will unite our supplications with theirs, before his throne of grace. 

But the voice of God in this awful providence claims from us 
the performance of other duties. It utters to us and to all the in¬ 
habitants of this city, a language of fearful import. God is ad¬ 
dressing to us most important instructions, and kind but loud ad¬ 
monitions. And that we may derive from them both, the benefits 
which they are intended and calculated to aff rd, I now proceed 
to address you further, from the following words: 

It is the Loud; let him do what seemeth him good. 

1 Sam. iii: 

These words were uttered in the ceilain prospect of sore be¬ 
reavement and wide-sprea 1 desolation; bereavement and desola¬ 
tion soon experienced in all their bitterness; involving the disso¬ 
lution of the tenderest ties, sad calamity to the people of God, and 
the (lestructif)n of numerous lives. And when the messenger ar¬ 
rived with the heart-rendinjr intelligence from the scene of disas- 
ter and woe, all the city cried out. 

That divine visitation was indeed a jir^gment; a punishment for 
specified offences, which had received the pointed reproof, and 
provoked the fearful threatenings of the Almighty. It was not 
however such a judicial act as cut off all the sufferers from the fa¬ 
vour of God and the hope of Heaven. He that uttered the words 
of the text, and whose conduct was the chief occasion of this ex¬ 
tensive calamity, and was himself from heart-rending grief among 
the devoted sufferers, was a good man. His reformatioti in regard 
to the offence specifietl, catne. too late to prevent the fatal blow; but 
that Ins penitence came in time to secu.e his salvation, there is 
every ground to believe. 

But afllictions and calanilies not less painful have often been 
eyperienc d, unaccompan el by equal marks of the divine dis¬ 
crimination, as to their causes. Although sin is the fruitful source 
of all natural evils, in whatever form they come, yet they are not 
to be regarded as proofs of equal guilt in all who suffer them. It 
would be the height of injustice and presumption to draw such a 
conclusion; or even to infer any special criminality on the part of 
all who suffer. Natural evils are not dispensed on the principle of 
comparative ill-desert. Such a conclusion stands rebuke by our 
Saviour himself, in the noted instances of the fall of Siloam^s 
tower^ and PHaters mingling of the blood of the Galileans in 
their sacrifices. But wh.i.ever the affffction, or however compar 


11 


atively innocent or gnilty those may be who suffer, the language 
and the sentiment of the text are most appropriate, and should be 
deeply impressed on every heart, in proportion to its severity.— 
For it implies a direct recognition of the hand of God. It is the 
Lord. It is an expression f)f uncomplaining, cordial submission; 
of humble, undissembled piety. Let him, do what seemeth him 
good. How appropriate then to us on the present occasion. 

Our object will be to present some of the instructions thus sug¬ 
gested, and which the painful providence to which we have re¬ 
ferred, so solemnly and loudly enforces. 

First. In all the manifestations which God makes of himself to our 
world, it is his benevolent design to produce the conviction of his be¬ 
ing, presence and agency ; and thus secure th * a'.i'ec tiori and happi¬ 
ness of his rational cieatures. God is, essentially, love; and how¬ 
ever he exhibits himself he is prompted by the purest benevolence. 
All the displays of hischar.icter arebul modifications of this essential 
perfection of his nature, adapted to the nature and character of his 
creatures. The ways in which he has manifested himself wdlh this 
benevolent design, are various and multiform. With t’lis view'he 
has shown himself in creation itself. His image is, as it were, 
enstamped on all his w'orks. They show his eternal power and 
Godhead^ so that the atheist and the undevout man are without ex¬ 
cuse. Creation not only famishes proofs of his being, but displays 
of much of his character: of all his natural, an 1 traces at least of 
his moral perfections. But alas, with most men all this fails to 
secure the object. Familiarity with the w’orks of God prevents, 
or soon wipes aw’ay, those impressions which they weie designed 
and so well calculated to produce. Mankind grow' up in practical 
atheism, notwithstanding the abundant proofs of God’s existence 
with which they arc surrounded. They remain in ignorance of 
his perfections, notwithstanding the constant display of them be¬ 
fore their eyes. They realise not his close and constant inspec¬ 
tion, notw'ithstanding the evidence that his oinni^( lent eye is never 
diverted from them. The language (»f tlieir heart, if not of their 
lips is The Lord doth not see, neither doth the God of Jacob re¬ 
gard it. The fool hath said in his heart, there is no God .— 
Sin is indeed the source of all this atheism: (or they do not like to 
retain God ia their knowledge. But the benevolence of God, in 
the manifestation of himself, stops not here. Additional instruc¬ 
tions, in regard to his being, perfection and pcrsence, together 
with motives of increased urgency to enforce them, are afforded by 
his providence. And though all men wxre not agreed as to the ex- 


12 


tent and minuteness of the divine superintendence, yet few arc 
found who wholly discard the doctrine. They are compelled to 
admit it, not merely from the uniform order and regularity and 
harmony of his more manifest operations, hut from a thousand 
things of daily occurrence, which come within their individual ex- 
perience and observation ; from exposures atid rescues—from the 
unexpected realization, or inilooked-for disappointment of iheir 
hopes ; in a word, from marked discriminations t)f his holy sove¬ 
reignty, which constitute no small portion of every inan^s individ¬ 
ual history. The benevolent designs oT God a^ elicited from his 
works, become, by his jirovidence, plain and obvious intention. 
The providences of God not only supply a commentary on his 
purposes, otherwise (iiscoverable, but powerfully enforce the Cf)n- 
viction of them. But alas, here too, familiarity, espe ially with 
beings prone as mankind are to forget God, and overlook or disre¬ 
gard the evidence of his being and his presence, weakens or des¬ 
troys all their f rcc. Voluntary ignorance, in the midst of the 
means <»f information, soon assumes the character of the most cri¬ 
minal indiflerence, or direct opposition. Self becomes a god, and 
the natural pride of the heart clothes him u i.h all his attributes.— 
Man throws himself upon his own imagined resources, and feels 
independent ol‘ his Maker. But th's spirit requires to be checked; 
and this course of the sinner t() he arrested. Hence God appeals 
in still clearer light. He shows himself in the cliaracter of a moral 
Goi'crnor: of a holy Sovereign ; doing what seemeth him good, 
without disclosing the reasons ol' his conduct. To jiroduce the 
conviction of his presence anil agency, he sometimes suspends the 
operation of established laws; as in the instance of mirarlis. Of 
lie brings the ehmients which they were designed* separately, to 
regulate, into conflict; as in cases of many kinds of calamity and 
disaster. Or he gives a controling power to that which is me ely 
incidental, and which, in its happy or unhappy results, those 
who overlook the liainl of God, term accident or chance, although 
all are essential parts of one great whole, and all subservient 
to one gran I purpose. 

But where all tliese fail, as fail they do with thouvands, to pro¬ 
duce the conviction to which they tend, (Jod often shows himself 
in direct interference with his creatures, in their individual charac¬ 
ter and condition, either in providential deliverances or overwhelm- 
ing judgements—in arts of special mercy, or signal calamity—in 
merciful preventives, or abandonment to ruin. God will make him¬ 
self known to the subjects of his moral government, and either win 


i3 


Ifjcm to aflectionate loyalty, or clothed in terror cause them lofeaf' 
belore hitn. Thus will I magnify Hysrlf, and sanctify my^tlf\ 
and I will he known in the eyes of many nations, and tluy shall 
know that I am the Lord. In addition to all these methods of iri- 
slriiclion and admonition, and with the same betjevoletit purpose, 
God has addressed mankind in plain and simple luni^uage. He 
appeals to their hopes and their fears—to their hopes, in promises 
which include all the persuasiv s of a Ileaviui of endless and inef¬ 
fable glory ; pointing out the way to that world with so much 
plainness and e’earness, that the uayjaring men, though fools, 
shall not err therein : to their fears, in his threuicnings of eter¬ 
nal perditi«>n, warning them against the ruin of their souls. Here 
the lenderest accents of his mercy and compassion condiinc w ilh 
the deep anti awful tones of his threatened vtmgcance, to woo or 
to drive, to the only ark of safety, that they maybe forever happv. 
In a w«»rd, to make known the manifold wisdom of God, (i. e.) 
to display the Whole assemblage of his perft'nions—is the grand 
and benevolent design of Jehovali in every exhibition of himself. 

Second. In all the ju Ignlents Und calamities and afUiciions which 
are visited uptin ns, onr thoughts slnmld he supremely directed to¬ 
wards God in hmnhie and adoring recognition of his agency, aiul 
in deepened consciousness of our absolute (!<'pen(h;ncc on him.— 
Gal has, as alrei Iv seen, the most benevohmt desiirn in sending 
them. And it is not till all milder means have failed to reelairn 
and reform, that he clothes himself in terrors. He never rises 
up that he may d\) his work, his strange work, and bring to pass 
his act, his strange act, till his goodness lias tailed to lead to 
repentance. Judgment is liis strange work. He would win the 
revolted subjects of hi‘< government to submission and obedience, 
bv kindnesses and favors. He would have his voice to be heard 
and heeded, which spiniks in accents «)f love. Hy such manifesta¬ 
tions of himseh', he would have iis recognise his presence anil 
agenc\, and feel (nir depeiidence, indebtedness and obligations, 
lint alas, in the rich profusion of the divine goodness the Giver is 
forgotten—forgotten in the gifts be5t<)wed. There is rio sin niorl; 
characteristic of our race than forgelfuiiiess of God ; and especially 
th It f.»rnetfulness of Ili.n which consists in overlooking his haml ill 
whatever occurs, and oiir entiie dependence, ^du'y do not rpieS- 
tlon tlu^ great fact of God’s jirovidenCe ; hut they (!<► Hot I'ealise it. 
Ifihereis no ojren atheism, there is a criminal disregard. And 
what is the more singular, as well as deplorable, this forgetfulness 
is more common in public than in private, in severe than slight ca- 


14 


lamities. Hence while the afflictions of individuals often result in 
the moral reformation and the saving benefit of the individual 
sufferer, this effect is seldom produced on a community, under the 
severest judgments. General reformation seldom attends, or fol¬ 
lows in the train of a sweeping calamity. We stop not to enquire 
for all the reasons of a result so astonishing and deplorable. The 
source of the evil however is manifest: forgetfulness of God. We 
suffer our thoughts to extend no farther than to secondary causes. 
We forget the great first cause. We content ourselves with in¬ 
vestigating and detecting and commenting on the mere instrumen¬ 
tality. We overlook the divine agency. We regard the hand of 
man; but disregard the hand of God. Hence the indulgence of 
self-reproach, or a disposition to charge blame on others, in the 
evils endured. The guilty indeed should not be exculpated—nor 
go unpunished. There may be a duty to be performed towards 
them. But our duty stops not at their exposure and punishment. 
We are to remember that the agency of man, under whatever mo¬ 
ral influence it may be put forth, is not independent of the will or 
purpose of God. Is there evil in a city and the Lord hath not 
done it ? He has a wise and holy design in every event that oc¬ 
curs. And in them all he challenges our supreme regard. And 
our first and chief enquiry should be what hath God wrought ?— 
Or under the heaviest calamities, with Eli shouhl say. It is the 
Lord! In the reverse of this we are to search for the reasons 
why public calamities are so seldom followed by extensive, mo¬ 
ral improvement. The evils resulting from forgetfulness of God, 
are immense. There is not only a failure to secure the benefits in¬ 
tended and proffered—benefits seen in increased convictions of de¬ 
pendence on God; in deepened humility and contrision for sin; in 
invigorated resolutions of reforiuation : but increased obduracy, 
deadened sensibility, and a more benumbed conscience will be 
the consequence. And the danger is imminent of judicial blind¬ 
ness and hardness. Restraints will be weakened, it not thi*own 
off. This will soon be followed by an abandonment to the cease¬ 
less influence of selfishness, and the destruction of all moral and 
religious obligation ; and men will be lett to hurry forward with 
hastened and lengthened sti'ides in the broad road to ruin. Hence 
it often happens that one calamity follows another in quick suc¬ 
cession. When I begin,, I will also make an end^ saith the 
Lf)rd. Especially is this true of his covenant people. Judgments 
upon them come not singly, unless they are averted by their re¬ 
formation and return to duty. What solemn responsibility does 


15 


tins consideration throw upon them, when God arises out of his 
secret place, to lay his rod upon them. And alas, if judgment 
frst begin at the house of God, what shall the end be of them that 
obey not the gospel of God ? 

Third. Under the heaviest calamities and the sorest chastise¬ 
ments, we should exercise the most uncomplaining, confiding sub¬ 
mission to God. The language and sentiment of the text should be 
the language and sentiment of every sufferer. It is the Lord; 
let him do what scemeth him good. There is indeed a grief, but 
it is too nearly allied to despair; a grief whose deepness forbids 
utterance ; a severity of mental agony which mocks and defies the 
power and compass of words to express. This may exist where 
piety exerts no controling influence; where piety does not exist. 
The natural sensibilities of the soul may be awakened, and arous¬ 
ed to such a degree, by the sufferings of others, or the recital of a 
tale of woe, a^ to paralyze the power of speech. Ah, how many 
felt this on receiving the awful tidings which overwhelmed us all 
with the deepest sorrow ; and feel it still on every attempt to con¬ 
ceive of the scene of despair and suffering which were felt, when 
so many souls were hurried, under circumstances so appalling 
and terrific, and God only knows in how many, or what instances, 
wholly unprepared, into the eternal world. Who among us, at 
the first announcement, but stood in silent amazement, or sent 
forth the deep groans of an agonised heart ? Nor can we do 
more to-day, nor ever, more, on any attempt to picture or conceive 
its horrors. Rut this may be a very different thing from feeling, 
and acting under the influence of the sentiment of our text. 

To the Christian indeed the shock may not be less. Its paralyz¬ 
ing influence may be equally great; indeed greater than actually 
occurred to any of us. It was overwhelming, and proved fatal to 
him who uttered the text; and he was a pious man. But in his 
case the whole heart flowed out towards God. It is the Lord; let 
him do what scemeth him good. The hand of God in the afflic¬ 
tion which prostrated him, and brought distress on the people of 
God, and filled all the city with consternation, he regarded as un¬ 
der the direction of infinite wisdom. And it awakened the most 
pious emotions of his heart; gave direction to his contemplations; 
and prompted the language of the most cordial submission. So 
will it ever be with the pious man. He may be overpowered for 
the moment. But when he is recovered from the first paroxysm of 
his grief, and with composure contemplates the greatness of the af¬ 
fliction, he hears and obeys the voice ; Be still and know that I 


J6 


am God, When ho reflects on his own bereavement in all itshit- 
leriiess, and airgiavations, the language of hi* heart is, The Lord 
gave and the Lord hath iahen away,, and blessed be the name of 
the Lord, He is willing that the reasons of' the divine conduct 
should remain veiled in mystery, til] the light of eternity shall dis¬ 
close them ; assureil that though clouds and darlness are round 
about him^ yet righteousness and judgment are the habitation of 
his throne- His glorious ni.ijesly, his wise and holy sovereigtUy, 
are no subjects of terror to h.ini; no occasion of dissatisfaction : 
but rather of sweet and joyful contem|dati()n. The divine hanej 
is recognised and traced in ail the arrangeiuents, and he bows with 
silent submission. He knows that Gotl docs not willingly afflict 
and grieve the. children of men —that his chastisements are sent 
in love to them that love and fear and obey IJim—that whom the 
].ord loveth he chastenelh, and scourgeth every son whom he 
receivfth. Christians look beyond the rod, to Him who hath ap¬ 
pointed it. And while they look not at the things which are seeny 
and which are temporal,, but at the things which are not seen, and 
are eternal, they can adopt and appropiiate llie language of an 
Apostle, I'or our lig’it ajfflictiou, which is but for a moment, 
worketh for us, a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory. 
'I'heir submission is not coin|)f lied, but voluntfiry—not constrain¬ 
ed, but cheerful. It is not because resistance is vain, and there¬ 
fore they resign from weakticss to resist. But t'ley feel that God 
doth all things well; and that all things shall work together for 
good to them that love him. In the moral Governor of the uni¬ 
verse, they recognise the best and thekiiuh^st of fathers and friends ; 
and however hitter the cup, they drink it, saying. Not tur will, 
hut thine, O God, be done. 

These are some of the lessons inculcated by the text, and so¬ 
lemnly enforced by that awful providence which has occasioned 
our assembling to-day. We submit a few reflections: 

First. 'I'he calamity with which God has afflicted this city, 
claims from all the inhabitants, llie most serious and solemn con¬ 
sideration. God has recently dealt with us, after an unwonted 
manner, He has manifested Himself, clothed with peculiar terrors. 
The course which he has pursued towards the inhabitants of this 
city, has been suddenly and fearfully reversed. Hitherto He has 
dealt tovyards them in singular mercy. His providence has been 
marked with signal favours. We have been a highly favoured 
community. Our history for years past, has exhibited on every 
page of it, certainly in its records of a temporal nature, a striking 


17 


contrast to that of almost every other city in the land. In the 
general distress which has pervaded our Country, this place has 
indeed shared, but shared less than most other places. God too has 
thrown his protecting arm around us, and preserved our dwellings 
and property from desolating fires, and our persons from the pes¬ 
tilence which walketh in darkness^ and the destruction which 
wasteth at noonday: calamities which have been visited on nume¬ 
rous other places, and extensively desolated not a few of them.— 
Of these we have only heard with the hearing of the ear: our eyes 
have not seen them. When we consider that in many respects, 
we are peculiarly exposed, we arc constrained to say, and should 
say it with emotions of the liveliest and most humble gratitude to 
Almighty God ; He hath not dealt so with any other people, and 
as for his judgments we have not known them. Our city too has 
been fast recovering from her late depression. She was being fast 
restored to all her former prosperity. Activity is seen on her 
wharves and in her streets. Her sadness has been exchanged for 
the aspect of cheeifulness and joy. The fresh beamings of ani¬ 
mating hope are seen on every countenance. New and exten¬ 
sive enterprise have been undertaken and successfully prosecuted. 
All these blessings of providence—this recovered, or fast recover¬ 
ing prosperity—these successful operations, arc indeed still con¬ 
tinued to us. But who will say that the late painful providence 
has produced no paralyzing influence upon any of them—that no 
check has been put to enterprise, either by death or by despond¬ 
ency—none to plans of improvement—no diminution felt to weight 
of character—to wisdom of counsel—to energy of enterprise—to 
talent for planning and directing and executing—none to the force 
and weight of our best institutions, religious and civil and social. 
I need not name to you those individuals, whose death, with one 
consent, our whole community mourns.(^) I need not name to 
you those younger branches, of hopeful promise, just commencing 
the business of active life ; ah, and others still less mature, but 
budding, blooming ornaments of the domestic and the social circle, 
who, in the arms of their parents, also found a watery grave. I 
ask, do these things prefer no claims to our most serious and so¬ 
lemn consideration ? Do not these providences contain and address 
most solemn reproofs to us all? Is this no calamity? And are 
no provoking causes of it to be detected among ourselves ? Is not 
the question proprounded, and solemnly pressed ? Wherefore 
doth the Almighty contend with us? He who does not willingly 


C 


18 


afflict and grieve the children of men, never sends his judgments 
or calamities without the best of reasons. The curse causeless 
shall not comc^ is one of the first principles in the government of 
God ; and this sentiment is universal. We find it avowed and 
practised upon, under all the multiform religions which mankind 
have adopted. Hence the rites and sacrifices of pagans. A con¬ 
troversy then is implied in all the calamities which Jehovah sends. 
They may be blessings to individual sufferers ,however they may 
fall. They may prove to them a sudden removal from a slate of 
trial and sin and conflict, to a world where none of these are 
known—where all sorrows cease—where all tears are forever 
wiped away—where there is no more sin to awaken the accusa¬ 
tions of conscience and grieve the pious heart—where all is peace' 
and purity and bliss. Yet what greater calamity than this to the 
Church, and to the world. Hence exclaims one of the prophets of 
God, Woe is me, for the good man is perished out of the earth. 
Hence prays one of the pious kings of Israel, Help Lord, for the' 
godly man ceaseth—for the faithful fail from among the child- 
rcn of men' A train of evils follows, whose bearings and results 
can not be predicted—can only be known as they unfold them-- 
selves. Alas, then, what sentiments and feelings and fears and so¬ 
le nn consi leratio is sh udd be awakened in every bosom, by that 
indescribably awful visitation which has filled us all with the deep¬ 
est sorrow and grief. They are overwhelming now—but when 
these throbs and throes of grief shall have subsided, their effects’ 
will be visible ; will be felt. 

Second. We are placed by this visitation of providence in most 
solemn, responsible and critical circumstances. These are as 
fearful as the hand of God is visible. His benevolent purpose 
which prompts to all the manifestations which hemakes of himself 
is to reclaim mankind—to biing back this revolted world to loyal 
and affectionate obedience. With this view he dispenses his mer¬ 
cies—he bestows his blessings, and thus appeals to their gratitude. 
The goodness of God leadeth to repentance. But alas, how often, 
how almost universally, all this fails to win the hard heart of man. 
But when this fails; when no suitable returns of gratitude and 
love and obedience are made for his bounties and favors; when 
his goodness is consumed on the lusts of men, and it engenders 
the spirit of independence, of self-dependence, and pride is fostered 
and God forgotten, his very benevolence forbids him to stop here. 
It prompts to the employment of other means. Afflictions in dif¬ 
ferent forms, and of different degrees of severity are sent. If 


19 


these are unheeded, calamities follow—calamities of less or greater 
extent. And if these avail not, God will show himself clad in 
more awful terrors. lie will send his judgments, his sweeping 
judgments, and cause wide-spread desolation. When Ihegin^saith 
the Lord, I will also make an end. For the correctness of these 
positions, we appeal to the wdiole history of the divine administra¬ 
tion ; but need adduce no examples till an instance to the con¬ 
trary can be shown ; and this we conhden ly cl allenge. What 
then is our standing? rather, what is the stage or point, which we, as 
a city, occupy, in the process of God's dealings towards us? is now 
the solemn question which demands an unbiased, and ingenuous an¬ 
swer from every one of us; from this whole community. We 
need not refer again to that series of divine goodness, by which we 
have been so distinguished. And need we enquire what requital 
we have made. Could charity itself admit a doubt on this point, 
that doubt were removed by the clearest indications—the plainest 
solutions furnished by providence itself. Tine indeed, God has 
not withdrawn and withheld his bounties and his favours. His 
mercy is not clean gone forever. Nor is he w’ont to deal thus, 
till a whole community has become incorrigible—while perhaps 
even ten righteous men can be found in it. But has he not taken 
hold of the rod which has so long been slumbering? Has he not 
uttered his voice in unwonted tones? Has he not begun to min¬ 
gle calamities with his mercies? Is he not beginning to rise up 
from his secret place, and is he not uttering the voice of alarm?— 
And is this now our standing?—this the stage of his dealings to¬ 
wards us? And is there nothing fearful in it? Nothing alarming 
in the proipect? Has .Jehovah unstopped and poured out all his 
vials, in the late overwhelming scene, which dashed so many hopes; 
which sent bereavement to so many families; which has clad so 
many in sackcloth, and spread out a dark and gloomy cloud over 
our whole community and country? An answer to this solemn 
question is to be sought—can only be found in our futu e course; 
must be sought, and will alone be found, either in our moral re¬ 
formation, or that abandonment which must follow continued im¬ 
penitence. Our condition then is a fearfully responsible and crit¬ 
ical one. Let us break off our iniquities by righteousness, 
and our transgressions by turning unto the Lord. This is our 
only security against impending judgments. Turn ye even to me, 
saith the Lord, with all your heart, and with fasting, and with 
weeping, and with mourning; and rendyour heart, and not your 
garments, and turn unto the Lord your God, for he is gracious 


20 


and merciful^ slow to anger, and of great kindness, and reipenU 
eth him of the evil—who knoweth if he will return and repent, 
and leave a blessing behind him. 

Finally. We are taught what estiinate to place on earthly pos¬ 
sessions and earthly expectations. Far be it from me to underva¬ 
lue the possessions, the well-founded distinctions, and the innocent 
and rational enjoyments of this world. The evil consists in pla¬ 
cing a wrong estimate upon them; in suffering them to become 
objects of supreme desire ; in usurping that empire of the soul 
which only God and eternal realities should hold. To these, all 
things else should be held in subordination. We do not indeed 
derive this lesson from the scene of desolation and woe, which we 
have been reviewing to-day. Every special adversity affords a 
lecture on the utter vanity and delusive nature of all earthly things. 
Yet no where is this false estimate, this vanity and delusion of the 
world, more forceably taught and corrected than by that scene of 
desolation and woe. What hopes were there in an instant dash¬ 
ed? What plans forever frustrated? What expectations placed 
beyond the possibility of realization ? Ah, too, and what earthly 
attachments in a moment sundered? And how does this teach us 
what hopes to indulge—w'hat plans to devise—what expectations 
to cherish—and what attachments to form. What of earth were 
then to be regarded as a substitute for an interest in the Redeemer, 
for that hope which is as an anchor of the sovl, both sure and 
steadfast, amid all the waves of a tempestuous sea, and which en- 
tercth into that within the veil, which has its firm hold upon the 
shores of a blessed immortality. Hear ou«* Saviour on this sub¬ 
ject : What shall it profit a man if he shall gain the whole world 
and lose his own soul? Hear loo that voice which cries. All 
flesh is grass, and all the goodliness thereof is as the flower of 
of the field. The grass withereth—the flower fadeth, because the 
Spirit of the Lord bloiveth upon it. Surely the people is grass. 
H ear it again : Surely every man walketh in a vain show; sure- 
ly they are disquieted in vain : he heapeth up riches and knoweth 
not who shall gather them. Ah, hear it once more : Behold thou 
hast made my days as a hand-breadth, and mine age is as nothing 
before thee. Verily, verily, every ma7i at his best state, is alto¬ 
gether vanity. Who now will boast himself of to-morrow ? for¬ 
getting that this night his soul may be required of him. And who 
with the awful scenes of death and eternity brought thus near, 
will have the presumption to put far off the evil day ? Upon these 
scenes, though they may be attended with other circumstances, 
we shall all soon be ushered. And they will be as full of terror 
to the impenitent and nnpardoned sinner, on a bed of down, as 
though he sank amid the waves to a watery grave. Nor may 
death come less suddenly to us. In such an hour as ye think not, 
the son of man cometh. Therefore, be ye also ready. 


21 


APPENDIX. 


Passengers so far as their iiaiiies are known. 


( 1 ) 

INHABITANTS AND RESIDENTS OF SAVANNAH. 

Dr. John Gumming, Lady, and Servant. 

Samuel B. Parkman, Esq. 

Misses Alethena, (Caroline, and Theresa Parkman. 

Master Whitney Parkman. 

Dr. P. H. Wilkins, Lady, and son Francis. 

Mr. Rob^*rt Hutchison, Lady, two Children, and Seia'ant. 

Mr. (j. B. Lamar, l^ady, and Servant. 

Misses Martha, Rebecca, and Caroline Lamar. 

Masters Charles, William, Thomas, and George Lamar. 

Mrs. William Mackay, two Children, and Servant. 

Mrs John Wagner, two Children, and Servant. 

Capt. R. W. Pooler, and son Robert. 

Col .VVilliam Robertson. 


Messrs. George Huntington. 
B. W. Fosdick. 
Sherman Miller. 
Samuel I Evermore. 
W. W. Foster. 

A. Hamilton. 

L. Bird. 


Messrs. A. Stansfield. 

R Brower. 

C. Ward. 

H. B. Nicholls. 

Prisdila, i 

Sally Middleton, S 


I.SUA.BIT.4NTS OP OTHER PLVCES WHO EMBARKED AT SaVANNAH. 


Mrs. Nightingale, Child, and Servant. 
Mrs. Fraser, and Child. 

Col. W. A. Dunham, and Lady. 

Rev. J L. Woart, and Lady. 

Dr. J. E. Stewart, Lady, and Servant. 
Rev. E. Oafts. 


Mrs. J. C. Taylor. 
Miss Rebecca Lamar, 
J. H. (;!ouper. Esq. 
M;ij. J. P. Heath. 
Dr. Thomas F. Ash. 
Messrs. H. Eldridge. 

A liOvejoy. 

Wm. .A. Stewart. 
C. Hodson, 


and Eliza Lamar. 


• Messrs. H. N. Carter. 

A. Burns. 
Farquhar McRea. 






22 


Embarked at Charleston- 

Mr. Edward J. Pringle, Lady, Child, and Servant- 
Mr. T. P. Rutledge, and Lady. 

Mr. H. S. Ball, Lady, Child, and two Servants. 

Mr. B. F. Smith, and Lady. 

Rev. J. J. Murray, Lady, and four children. 

Mr G. Y. Davis, and Lady. 

Mr. J. Longvvorth, and Lady. 

Mr. Eddings, Lady and Child. 

Mr. N. Smith, and Lady. 

Mr. O. Gregory, and Lady. 

Mr. Hubbird, and Lady. 

Mr. Merrit, Lady, and Child. 

Judge William B. Rochester. 

Judge J. A. Cameron. 

(ilapt. David Britt, and Lady. 

Mr. Coy, Lady, and Child. 

Maj. G L. 'I’wiggs. 

Lieut. Thornton, U. S. N. 

Messrs. E. W. James. 
Joseph Auze. 
Bennett. 

C. W. Clifton. 

B. L. Greenwood. 
Evans. 

R. W. Freeman. 
Charle.s B. Tappan. 
Masters T. Whaley. 

W. Whaley. 

J. D. J'wiggs. 

T. Downie. 


( 2 ) 

The following account is derived from J. H. Couper, Esq., of Georgia, 
and Maj. J. P. Heath, of Baltimore, as published in the Chronicle of that 
City : “The steam packet Pulaski, Capt. Dubois, sailed from Savannah, 
on Wednesday the IBth June, 18B8 ; she arrived at Charleston the after¬ 
noon of the same day, and left Charleston the next morning. In the af¬ 
ternoon the wind was fresh from the East, and produced a heavy sea, 
which retarded her progress, and required a full pressure of steam. At 
half past 10, p. m., the wind continued fresh with a clear starlight, and 
there was every promise of a fine night. At 11 o’clock, the starboard 
boiler exploded, with a tremendous violence, blowing oft' the promenade 
deck above, and shattering the starboard side about midships—at the same 
time the bulk-head bet.' een the boilers and forward cabin was stove in : 
the stairway to it blocked up, and the bar-room swept away. The head 
of the boiler w£fe blown out and the top rent fore and aft. In consequence 
of the larboard boiler, and works being comparatively uninjured, the boat 
heeled to that side, and the starboard side was kept out of water, except when 


Misses E. Drayton. 
Rutledge. 

Heald. 

Trapier. 

Michel. 

Clark. 
Greenwood. 
Messrs. E. W. Innis. 

W. C. N. Swift. 
T. C. Rowand. 

R. Seabrook- 

S. Keith. 

R. D. Walker. 




she rolled, when the sea rushed in at the breach. The boat continneu 
to settle rapidly, and in about 40 minutes the water had reached the pro¬ 
menade deck above the ladies’ cabin. Previously to this period, the ladiesf 
children, and the gentlemen who were in the after part of the boat, were 
placed on the promenade deck. About the time the water reached that 
point, the boat parted in two with a tremendous crash, and the bow and 
stern rose somewhat out of water, but the latter again continued to sink 
until the water reached the promenade deck, when it separated in three 
parts upset, and precipitated all on it into the water. Many then regained 
the detached portions * * * * The cause of the disaster was obviously the 
neglect of the second engineer, in permitting the water to boil off in the 
starboard boiler, and then letting in a full supply of water on the heated 
copper, &.C.” 


(3) 

The Rev. J. J. Murray, of Edisto, S. C., who, with his wife and four 
children were lost. The Rev. J. L. VVoart, of Tallahassee, Fa., and the 
Rev. E. Crafts, Cooperstovvn, N. Y. 


(4) 

« Mr. Huoir S. Ball of Charleston was lost, in attempting to swim' 
from the bow to the stern of the boat to his wife, whom he perceived on 
that part of the steamer.” The following affecting incident is also rela¬ 
ted : “ While the boat was lying off, one of the passengers, frantic with 

alarm, and without knowing what he was about, jun ped towards her, but 
fell far short. He turned at once sensible of his situation, and probably 
remembered whom he had left behind, with the view of regaining the wreck. 
His wife screamed to him by name, “where are you 1 where are you ?”— 
He replied from the waves, “I’m here, my dear, I’m here.”—“I’m co¬ 
ming, my husband,” she immediately rejoined, and leaping on the rail of 
the deck, plunged into the sea.” 


(5) 



“The Rev. Mr. Woart and lady expired on a fragment of the ^Joat^ 
from exhaustion, whose Christian resignation to their fate, ^ited the ad- 
miration of all around them. They expired within a few of each 

other.” 





24 


( 6 ) 

Mr. G. B. Lamar and his son Charles, Capt. R. W. Pooler and his 
son Robert, Mr, Robert Hutchison, Mr. B. W. Fosdick, Mr. A. Ham¬ 
ilton, Mr. C. Ward, and Col. Wm. Robertson. . 


( 7 ) 

The names of Dr. John Gumming and Samuel B. Pafkman, Esq., are 
associated with the most valuable institutions and improvements of this 
city; and they will be held in most respectful and affectionate remem¬ 
brance, while her best interests are cherished. 





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